


Whining Magic

by ratonzita



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek Hale, Angst, Ever - Freeform, Hurt Stiles, I hope you like it, Is more Dubios Consent than rape??, M/M, Stiles is Pushed Out of the Pack, Witches, angst did I said that already?, because why not, creatures of the night, enjoy the tears and feels, sorryI'mnotsorry, this is my first fanfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-09
Updated: 2015-04-09
Packaged: 2018-03-21 23:48:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3707763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ratonzita/pseuds/ratonzita
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Oh my god, did you just whine?” Stiles said finally getting up from the floor. “I like to point to the fact that you wanted me away”, he approached the window, “so the second I open this, you, sourly-alpha, are going to fucking explain everything.”<br/>He opened it but did not break the barrier. To be in love with Derek fucking Hale, god of hotness and world champion on grumpy faces and eyebrow talking, didn’t mean to freaking allow him to do anything he wanted. Oh, no. Stiles was putting his foot down, along with some yelling and swearing.<br/>Derek whined again.<br/>“Oh, fucking fine!” Stiles broke the line. “Now-”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Whining Magic

**Author's Note:**

> So this is my first fanfic, as I said in the tags. Hope you like it. If you hate it, sorry to waste your time, but I had to get the idea out my head. It happens sometimes. However titles and me don't get along; sorry for that.  
> Well... enjoy.

It had been two weeks since the last supernatural creature attacked Beacon Hills. Two weeks since that wendigo almost gut Stiles. _Almost_ , Derek. Two weeks since something inside Derek clicked and pushed him to kick Stiles out of the pack with the coldest glare ever.  The two longest weeks in Stiles’ life. Longest because not only had Derek abused his Alphaness but also managed to compel his betas—including his _former_ best friend Scott—to avoid him, ignore him.

‘It hadn’t even been a deep cut!’ Stiles thought every time he tried to reach his friends, his pack, his family; however, the closest he ever got to them was sitting in the same classroom. To make matters worse, he earned detention every single day of those two awful, long weeks trying to get some reaction from them. Thank you, Harris.

Now here he was. In bed trying to focus on the English reading while itching to scratch the scars the wendigo’s claws left behind—but seriously it wasn’t _that_ deep—, with that horrible feeling of loneliness he thought he would never feel again, not after Gerard Argent kidnapping and beating the shit out of him—and may he remind the wolves that he fucking _saved_ them on that day and many others?

He was startled—and will always claim to have given a man-shriek not a baby yelp—by the tap on his window. It was a rapid blur of limbs and flying book before he looked towards the object of his actual misery. Derek Hale was at his window.

Anger and confusion flooded Stiles. Wasn’t he avoiding him? Hadn’t he wanted to keep him away? What was Derek doing there now? Perhaps he had realized they couldn’t survive without his awesomeness? Yeah, like _that_ would happen. If anyone was more stubborn than Stiles, it was Derek freaking Hale.

Another tap came, this time stronger and accompanied by a low growl. Derek couldn’t get in: Stiles had surrounded the house with mountain ash. Just because he was no longer considered as part of the pack he had helped form, it didn’t mean supernatural shit stopped happening.

Another growl, another tap, followed by a very low whine.

“Oh my god, did you just _whine?”_ Stiles said finally getting up from the floor. “I'd like to point out the fact that you wanted me away,” he approached the window, “so, the second I open this, you, sourly-alpha, are going to fucking explain everything.”

He opened it but did not break the barrier. To be in love with Derek fucking Hale, god of hotness and world champion on grumpy faces and eyebrow talking, didn’t mean to freaking allow him to do everything he wanted. Oh, no. Stiles was putting his foot down, along with some yelling and swearing.

Derek whined again.

“Oh, fucking fine!” Stiles broke the line. “Now-”

Derek practically jumped him. Stiles hit the wall across the window with a loud thud, but he couldn’t care any less about it because Derek was kissing him. Like _kissing him kissing him_ , in real life, not hot wetting dreams. Not that this wasn’t a fantasy of his or didn’t want it, but he was pissed off about everything and he had had two full long weeks of loneliness to build it. So with every lust cell in his body screaming not to, Stiles managed to separate their lips. Nonetheless, Derek had more plans, involving his neck and the rest of his body.

“D-Derek”, Stiles panted, “w-what the fuck, man? Stop…” A moan betrayed his words as well as his heartbeat.

“I. Can’t.” Derek punctuated between licking and sucking his neck and chin.

“What? What do you mean you can't?” Stiles effortlessly tried to stop Derek’s hands, but it was a losing battle he really didn’t want to win. Except, right, he was mad, angry, really and seriously pissed…and aroused.

“You think I want to?” Derek growled.

It hurt. Of course, Derek wouldn’t want to be there doing sexy and hot things to Stiles. For fuck’s sake, he was Stiles and Derek was Derek… with the hotness and grumpiness and stubble and did he already mention the hotness?

But, yeah. It hurt as hell. It was like going all over again through every wound ever inflicted on his body, increasing it by a thousand, _and_ losing his mom. He had successfully exchanged the hurt for anger in those weeks, but with Derek right there doing those wonderful things to his neck and saying he didn’t want to do it, implying he couldn’t but do them—screaming spell, hex, jinx, supernatural crap going on, all over the place—yeah…it was awful.

Stiles glowered at his desk trying to hold the tears back and grabbing tightly Derek’s shirt, who gave yet another whine.

“Stiles…” It was like a sad caress and Stiles couldn’t take it. Just…no.

“Get off of me,” he whispered trying to push the unmovable mass of werewolf muscle pinning him to the wall. Derek bit his shoulder followed by an apologetic “I can’t”.

“Phone,” Derek growled to his neck. Stiles shakily patted Derek’s jeans finding instead the massive hard-on Derek was sporting, making him gasp and push into the touch. Stiles blushed and continued his search. Derek’s phone was trapped in those tight, tight jeans. Seriously, it should be against the law to wear those. Stiles pulled out the phone and quickly dialed Scott. Scott answered on the third ring receiving a moan from Stiles' lips instead of a ‘hello’ as Derek sucked Stiles' earlobe.

“Stiles?!” Scott’s voice called getting a growl from Derek who was trying now to open Stile’s jeans and remove his shirt at the same time.

“Come fucking get your stupid Alpha”, he said panting. He threw the phone and grabbed Derek’s hands. “That’s fucking enough.” Stiles glared the best he could while blushing and with rapid, short breaths. Abusing his wolfiness, Derek pinned Stiles’ wrists above his head with one hand while the other finally opened the annoying jeans and closed over Stiles’ dick.

Stiles bit his lips trying to hold back another moan. He struggled against Derek’s hold uselessly. He hated that feeling of impotence and powerless. It was worst because he couldn’t help to enjoy it, being trapped like this by this werewolf. This was Derek after all, ladies and gentlemen, who, faster than Stiles could follow, had already open his own jeans and pulled out his dick.

Derek pushed against Stiles’ dick abusing his werewolf speed while giving free reign to his hand on Stiles’ torso, roughly playing with his nipples.

Stiles could feel his orgasm building rapidly. He was going to come real soon—he was still a virgin, for fuck’s sake, and losing it with who he wanted without the consent he wished there was at the moment. He couldn’t even warn Derek. He came, hot and fast, with Derek following not two seconds behind.

He was still breathing fast and with difficulty when Derek jumped off of him and Scott burst into the room. His eyes almost popped off his face. “The hell, man?!”

Stiles was a bunch of feelings: sadness, anger, frustration, confusion, bliss, and starting over.

“Leave.” Stiles murmured. Derek flinched at the flat tone.

“Stiles...”

“Fucking leave, Derek!” Oh, no. Those better not were fucking tears rolling down.

“I’m going to kill her,” Derek promised dangerously before jumping through the window with Scott two steps after.

Finally alone, he held the worst of the tears for five minutes, knowing it would take them at least that much to get far away enough from him so that he could freely wallow in his misery without prying werewolf ears to pick up on it.

Stiles clutched himself as tight as he could, trying to give himself some sort of comfort from the fucked up—without actual fucking, sadly—situation he was in. He was now a semi-virgin, because you actually lost it when penetration occurred but some of it was lost when someone else’s hands touched your body, thanks to the man he’d been lusting and caring after for a whole year without said man truly willing to the hot and sexy shenanigans that took place in that same spot spilled with jizz he was still curling himself on. And the other wolves would know the moment they saw Derek and Scott.

He didn’t know if he was sadder for the not completely lost of the V-card or because Derek didn’t want to be a part of it, than for an actual feeling of rape he wasn’t feeling for himself, but for Derek—as Stiles was very willing to get sexed up any time of the day, but consent was a very fucking important thing for both parts. He was actually now more embarrassed because Derek now knew he had the hots for him. _Fuck_ , maybe he knew the whole time and that was the reason why he expelled him from the werewolf-pack club, as Lydia and Allison were still part of it.

Only an hour after sulking where the shenanigans undertook place, Stiles decided to get up and clean himself up. He was slightly ashamed to consider not showering just to keep Derek’s come with him for a little while longer, as it would never happen again, but he slapped himself—both mentally and physically—out of that thought.

In the shower, naturally, he couldn’t help recall Derek’s hands and everything over him, until he couldn’t hold out any longer and initiated Stiles’ special time right there under the hot spray of water. He slightly changed the situation to one where Derek did want to be there and took things further, with Stiles’ hands as a replacement for the big dick he in fact now knew Derek sported everywhere. After he screamingly came, his bliss was rapidly replaced by guilt because _Derek would never do that by his own free will_. Stiles punched the wall, cursing his brain for his objectifying romantic fantasies and quickly ended his shower.

He had to look twice in the mirror, because hello hickeys: big, purple all over his neck and shoulder. He didn’t even remember when Derek had stretched his shirt enough to get that big bite on his left shoulder. He shuddered and flushed, though, at the feeling of his teeth—bunny teeth that could become fangs any moment—over his tender, untouched flesh. Stiles shook firmly his head, gripped tightly the towel and walked out of the bathroom with the intention of leaving every hot thought behind him, but the moment he stepped into his room, where the hot evidence still lied, the resolution evaporated leaving behind sad and guilty feelings once again.

He dressed quickly and, with the same towel, half cleaned the come, trying, and failing, not to think. His brain could never be shut down, not even while sleeping. He gave up on his mind and its active imagination but refused to jerk off one more time. The guilt was suffocating enough to overthrow his constant horniness for Derek fucking Hale’s everything. Because, yeah, there was no other person or creature of the night that would ever occupy that place Derek had unconsciously made for himself inside of Stiles. He could appreciate others beauty and objectively find others attractive, but there was no one like Derek for Stiles. And now he was done for. Nobody would ever feel as amazing as that unwilling body next to his only moments before.

Stiles bit his pillow and let the tears fall down again until the turmoil of the events exhausted him to sleep.

*

Fortunately, the sheriff had the night shift, so when he came home at five o’clock he didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary in Stiles' sleeping body. And, even better, was that Stiles could wake up without needing to lie about the new purple canvas that was his neck.

Stiles sighed, tired of everything that implied living, moving, existing. But he removed himself wearily from his bed and changed into street-school clothes because he couldn’t be home when his dad would wake up or answers were going to be required. He entered the kitchen and grabbed some coffee and pop-tarts. Then he took his backpack, wallet, cell phone, and keys. He left his house with a resigned look on his face and ignited his lovely Jeep, giving her a loving pat on her everything.

He drove with the minimum of attention until he reached the high school’s parking lot’s entrance, and kept on driving. Because on the school’s doors was the pack gathered looking in his direction, and he just couldn’t handle the cold shoulder today. He was going to take a day for himself, away from everything that reminded him of the life he had grown accustomed to and was easily left out of. It proved to be a difficult task as, apparently, all Beacon Hills had, in one time or the other, been involved in that supernatural world he loved so badly. Finally, he decided to treat himself to another coffee and some more sweets. He had to drive along the woods for that. But, in the middle of the road, the jeep started having trouble until she stopped altogether.

Stiles groaned loudly. This was his luck, his life. To be abandoned by everything he loved, except his father. His dad couldn’t leave. He started working himself into a panic attack. He grabbed the wheel and closed his eyes forcing himself to breathe and happy thoughts. His dad would never do such a thing.

When he calmed down, he opened the jeep’s hood to hover over it and pretend he understood what was wrong. He surrendered a couple of minutes later. He took out his phone, but who could he call? His dad would ask about why he wasn’t at school and why his neck had hickeys. He no longer could ask for his friends’, his pack's, help. That left no one, but a truck and the mechanic. But he didn’t have the money for that.

Just when he was pocketing his cell phone and turning to wish the jeep to work again, a strange noise startled him and everything went black.

*

He had a pounding headache and overall ache everywhere. He slowly opened his eyes only to be greeted by the familiar scene of being kidnapped. This time though it wasn’t a bat-shit crazy old man, but an eager sort of young woman with a pet that looked like a feral werewolf. Hooray. This day kept getting better and better. What was next? Shiny vegan vampires or dark fairies?

“Oh, you’re awake!” The woman stood up and extended her hand smiling. “Hi, I’m Marianne.” Stiles tried to move, but instead of actually moving he noticed the chains on his wrists. “Oh, sorry. But I can’t have you running away. See. I need you. With you here, the Alpha will come and do my every bid.” She smiled like she was explaining why a kid should eat their very healthy and yummy vegetables.

Stiles rolled his eyes. “You kidnapped the wrong guy then.” His voice sounded off, rough like he had been out of it for hours instead of minutes. It felt like minutes. He frowned.

She tilted her head, then grabbed her pet’s fur. “He wouldn’t get it wrong. He had the Alpha’s scent and I put the spell, so there’s no way you’re not the one.”

The fucking spell. She made Derek do things he didn’t want to. If there was one thing Stiles hated more than the idea of losing his dad or his friends getting hurt, it was people making Derek do things he didn’t like. He didn’t want any more Kate Fucking Argents in Derek’s life ever again.

“What did you do to him?” He whispered heatedly while glaring at her with all his might.

“Only what was needed, darling.” She smiled sweetly but to Stiles, it looked wicked. “I told him to go where his heart’s desire was,” she jumped excitedly, “and he went to you! A human! It was so easy then to take you, and now,” she started dancing to a music only she heard and felt, “he’s going to be mine, too.”

“Why him?” Stiles asked interrupting her dance.

“Why? he asks.” She snickered happily but went utterly serious when she spoke again. “He killed my baby wendigo.”

Well, fuck. Had she been controlling that thing too? “And now you want retribution.”

She shrugged. “I’ve been dreaming of killing him, you know, an eye for an eye. But Wendy—get it?—was a little cuckoo. So then I thought to just give him her place. That way we’ll have more fun.”

“Well, you thought wrong Marianne.” She stopped smiling, confused. “He misled you. Your spell didn’t work. He’s not going to come for me. Not today, not ever, not in a million years.” Stiles shook his chains, the werewolf growled in warning.

“No?”  She feigned innocence. “Then why Willy here is saying ‘they’re on their way’?”

“He’s not stupid enough to fall into such an obvious trap.” Stiles hissed while trying desperately not to have any kind of hope.

She shrugged again. “Either way, he’s going to be here and I'll work my spell, I won’t need you anymore. Sad, because you’re pretty, but you’d be a distraction.” She raised her hand. Stiles' eyes went big when he realized he couldn’t breathe. She smiled lopsidedly and winked at him. He tried in vain to pull off the invisible hand chocking him. The powerless feeling was back, but instead of thrill, it came along with fear. He pushed with everything he had to get some kind of distance in order to break her range, but this wasn’t a video game and that concept was nonexistent; instead, he hit his head against the wall.

She took a step forward, raising him in the air, depriving him of everything, because it was apparently taking too long. Stiles was trying to hold the little breath he still had, but the familiar black spots were already coming. This was the end for him. Silently he sent his dad a sorry-for-everything-pops, a sorry-for-being-a-pain-in-the-ass to Derek and he was starting to form a you-suck-but-you’re-still-my-bro goodbye for Scott, when the doors busted and broke the witch’s—bitch’s, same shit right now, truly—concentration, allowing him to take a big gulp of precious oxygen while crushing hard against the floor.

She then resumed her task more fiercely than before while her pet fought against the pack and his dad. Stiles internally screamed. Because his dad was never to be part of all this bat-shit supernatural stuff he had dragged Scott into. He was going to kill Derek. Or more accurately, as air rapidly left him, haunt Derek fucking Hale. Just when he was about to black out entirely and soon become a ghost with unresolved business, he was able to breathe again. But the eagerness of chasing breath made him dizzy and unable to focus on the last bit of fight. He heard a loud thud and then, he was receiving more air than he could handle directly from soft lips he recognized as Derek’s.

His heart rate changed from really-slow-as-I-was-about-to-die to holy-shit-it’s-Derek-again. When Derek gave him space and chance to breathe on his own, he was again able to focus on his surroundings. There had been more creatures under the witch’s command that were now dead on the floor. But truly he couldn’t care about that now. Derek had come. _With his dad_. Words were needed.

He turned his face towards Derek’s again, opened his mouth to speak, but Derek shushed him delicately and redirected his head towards his chest, holding on to him tightly. Stiles breathed in Derek’s unique aroma and grasped his gray Henley reliving both a feeling of I-almost-died and you’re-here-but-soon-will-leave-me-again.

Now that he was safe—because honestly the safest place for him was to be next to Derek, or at least that’s how he had been feeling for a long time now, and truly it would never go away—, the adrenaline was fading quickly. He fell asleep at the same moment Derek growled and hissed in pain while pulling something behind Stiles. The chains, Stiles thought slowly, they must have had wolfsbane.

*

Stiles woke up again to slowly-fading pain and cold underneath him. He instantly knew he was at Deaton’s, as only him would have been able to remove the wolfsbane chains. He sat up quickly or tried to at least.

“Easy now, Stiles,” said Deaton’s reassuring neutral tone, while helping him lie back. His eyes were as fast as he wanted the rest of his body and found Derek brooding in the corner. Stiles scowled at him and then look for his father, inspecting him for injuries and relaxing when he discovered none. Now he returned to glare at Derek. He batted Deaton’s and Scott’s hands away and sat up soothing his aching wrists.

“You.” He could barely watch the rest of them slowly leaving the room, Scott leading his dad out, so they could have a resemblance of privacy. Derek’s pose became more rigid at Stiles tone and turmoil of feelings. Derek arched an eyebrow replying ‘what’ as a challenge he wasn’t really ready for. “You brought my dad into a fucking obvious trap. What were you fucking thinking?” Derek tried to speak but Stiles rambled on while closing the distance between them. “Nothing. Absolutely fucking nothing. My dad was never supposed to know about fucking werewolves or insane witches ever in his fucking life. And you brought him in. Why don’t you ever think before engaging violence? I thought you were past that! Are you planning on making my dad part of your pack? Because that’s a no-no. If I’m not in, he’s not going to be dragged into any sort of danger. He has enough of that on his daily job. I cannot worry about supernatural shit coming after him. Just no.” He breathed heavily. “Say something, Derek!”

“You were kidnapped. Again.” He growled.

“So what? I was going to be fine.” Derek growled again.

“You were going to die. She was killing you.”

“And whose fault is that?” Stiles hissed startling Derek. “Oh, don’t pretend you don’t know, mister I’m-a-werewolf-and-the-alpha-nothing-can’t-touch-me. If you hadn’t kicked me out, I would have been safer than by myself, suffocating in my own misery. And I know you noticed. You can smell it, can’t you? But no. I’m just human. Breakable, replaceable human that can only do research. But not even _that_ do you want from me. You want nothing from or with me. You made that fucking clear. Except no. I was targeted because, apparently, I’m your fucking heart’s desire. Don’t be surprised. I would have found out with or without the witch, sooner or later. So fucking explain. Because I understand nothing.” Stiles was panting after his heated speech, with a little bit of hope as ‘desire’ had plenty of interpretations; but Derek was stoned and blanked face, not giving anything away.

“It was what it was. A spell gone wrong.”

“So what? At the moment of the spell you were horny and the first piece of ass you thought about was me? Nothing more?”

“Exactly. Nothing more.” Stiles was in more pain from his feelings than he ever was before from anything physical. He knew Derek was lying. It pissed him off.

“Right. Because, like I said, you want nothing to do with me.”

“You’re always in the way, getting hurt. That's not good.”

“Fine. Then don’t you dare bring my dad into this or come to my fucking window asking, wait, no, you don’t ask, you get and demand. So no. Fucking leave me alone then if you really want me out of the fucking way. For fucking ever.” Stiles punctuated his words jabbing at Derek’s chest on the verge of tears. Briefly, he saw something similar to hurt fly on Derek’s eyes, but it was probably the light or his imagination. Derek didn’t care. Probably only saved him because of his dad. And he needed to stop thinking and leave.

He turned and left the room. The rest of the pack was looking at him sadly, even his dad. They probably retold every word he said to Lydia, Allison and him. He had so much explaining to do. But not today.

“Let’s go, dad. We have nothing to do here.”

*

His dad, wise man that he is, didn’t ask. Only side-looked at him and hugged him strongly before letting him go to his bedroom. Glad that he was safe and alive. Stiles nodded numbly and smiled at him as reassurance. But the smile didn’t reach his eyes, and the sheriff knew it wasn’t because of almost dying. If he had noticed something in between his son’s lies about the supernatural and night-life he had, was that there was someone he was interested in. And now he could put a name and a face to that someone: Derek Hale. He sighed tiredly, and followed Stiles, wished him goodnight and gave him space to collect his thoughts.

Stiles threw himself onto his bed and hugged his legs as hard as he could, trying to control his devastated heart. He got answers, they just weren’t what his heart had hoped. He thought Derek might be lying, but he had nothing to back up this idea, just the feeling in his gut. And he had already put an ultimatum. No way to find out now. He was done for life. There were no tears this time around when the realization hit him, just resignation and self-deprecating humorless laugh. Because he was destined to be alone and a loner. It was just him and his dad forever, and probably unfulfilling sex with strangers.

When his vision of the future was starting to get darker and darker, he heard his window being opened. He raised his red, puffy, tearless eyes towards the invader werewolf he loved so much. He scowled at him, receiving a glare in return.

“Wasn’t I clear enough at the clinic? I’m done.” He turned his back to the werewolf.

“I’m sorry.” He heard Derek murmur. He widely looked him again and took out his phone. “What are you doing?” Derek asked him confused.

“I’m calling Scott. There’s obviously another spell on you if you just apologized and I don’t want another go of something you don’t want to do.” Stiles couldn’t see his keyboard clearly in order to dial Scott’s number. He didn’t see when Derek approached him and covered his hand with his own. He looked up confused at Derek’s closeness and tried to get away, but the cheater used his speed and strength to avoid it. “Please, Derek. Just. Don’t.” Stiles was about to break again and if it was going to happen, he didn’t want Derek to see it. “You made yourself clear, no need of torturing me.”

“Shut up, Stiles.” Derek glared him to silence and pulled him into the warm embrace of his arms. “There’s no spell. My betas decided enough was enough and won’t let me talk to them until I- until I fix things with you.”

Stiles tried to get away uselessly. Derek had a nice grip on him. “See? Again, someone else is making you do it. You don’t really want to be here with me. Just leave. And lie to them. I’ve seen you do it. They’re not as keen as you to detect them. Just go.” Stiles sniffed. He was going to cry.

“No,” Derek growled. “I- I want you to-” He growled again in frustration. Stiles stopped trying to get away and focused on Derek’s attempt of explanation. “I just- I want you safe. I don’t want you to get hurt. I- I don’t like it.”

“And you thought to remove me from the pack and its connections would keep me safe?” Stiles felt Derek nod. He was slowly becoming aware of every touching point between them: their legs, bellies, Derek’s head over his, his own head over Derek’s chest, his arms around him and Stiles' hands over Derek’s chest. “You were wrong.”

“I see that now,” Derek whispered. “But I still don’t want you hurt. And, with us, you’ll always get hurt. You throw yourself before us, in a stupid attempt at protecting us. We heal, you don’t.”

Stiles slapped his chest and raised his head to look him straight in the eye. “I can heal too. Slower, yes, but I can heal. And I don’t like you guys hurt either. So I do my best to keep you from it.” They both knew their ‘us’ really meant both each other and the pack, especially each other. Derek sighed and pulled him closer.

“I'm afraid to hurt you,” Derek confessed.

“You won’t. Except when you’re being stupid and stubborn and unreasonable. Wait, that’s all the time. I think I see your point now. Why do I even put up with you?” Derek nipped his cheek playfully and growled in order to prove some point he himself didn’t know anymore, making Stiles snicker, lightening the mood slightly. “But really, Derek, you won’t ever hurt me on purpose.”

“Everyone that gets close to me, gets hurt or dies. I- If you-” Derek chocked on his own words.

“I’ll be fine. You’ll keep me safe.” Stiles looked at him again, caressed his soft hair, eased the perpetual frown on his face and whispered the most important words for Derek. “I trust you.”

Derek hid his face on Stiles' neck, on the side where he had left the still quite visible hickeys, and hugged him tightly. Stiles hugged him back strongly. Derek made a bit of space and slowly closed it again, asking permission silently to kiss Stiles. Stiles closed that small distance. They both sighed contentedly.

Stiles rolled them over until he was on top of Derek. Caressing his chest and looking intently every inch of his face. “Are you really not under a spell?”

Derek rolled them again and, when Stiles was trapped under him, he pushed his knee to open his legs, smirked at Stiles’ gasp, and whispered next to his lips “I’m really not. I want you now and in every way.”

“Good,” Stiles whispered and hugged Derek’s waist with his legs, kissing him slowly, desperately and lovingly. Derek answered in the same intensity, with the same intentions. "Because you have a lot of groveling to do."

They kept on kissing, riling each other up until they both fell asleep in the safe embrace of each other.


End file.
